‘Weep not, madam,’ said Dorothy, in the very foolishness of sympathetic expostulation.

‘What better cause could I have out of hell!’ returned the countess, angrily.

‘That it were no lie, madam.’

‘It is true, I tell thee.’

‘That my lord is a traitor, madam?’

Lady Glamorgan dashed her from her, and glared at her like a tigress.  An evil word was on her lips, but her better angel spoke, and ere Dorothy could recover herself, she had listened and understood.

‘God forbid!’ she said, struggling to be calm.  ’But it is true that he is in prison.’

’Then give God thanks, madam, who hath forbidden the one and allowed the other, said Dorothy; and finding her own composure on the point of yielding, she courtesied and left the room.  It was a breach of etiquette without leave asked and given, but the face of the countess was again on her pillow, and she did not heed.

For some time things went on as in an evil dream.  The marquis was in angry mood, with no gout to lay it upon.  The gloom spread over the castle, and awoke all manner of conjecture and report.  Soon, after a fashion, the facts were known to everybody, and the gloom deepened.  No further enlightenment reached Dorothy.  At length one evening, her mistress having sent for her, she found her much excited, with a letter in her hand.

‘Come here, Dorothy:  see what I have!’ she cried, holding out the letter with a gesture of triumph, and weeping and laughing alternately.

‘Madam, it must be something precious indeed,’ said Dorothy, ’for I have not heard your ladyship laugh for a weary while.  May I not rejoice with you, madam?’

’You shall, my good girl:  hearken:  I will read:—­’My dear Heart,’—­Who is it from, think’st thou, Dorothy?  Canst guess?—­’My dear Heart, I hope these will prevent any news shall come unto you of me since my commitment to the Castle of Dublin, to which I assure thee I went as cheerfully and as willingly as they could wish, whosoever they were by whose means it was procured; and should as unwillingly go forth, were the gates both of the Castle and Town open unto me, until I were cleared:  as they are willing to make me unserviceable to the king, and lay me aside, who have procured for me this restraint; when I consider thee a Woman, as I think I know you are, I fear lest you should be apprehensive.  But when I reflect that you are of the House of Thomond, and that you were once pleased to say these words unto me, That I should never, in tenderness of you, desist from doing what in honour I was obliged to do, I grow confident, that in this you will now show your magnanimity, and by it the greatest testimony of affection that you can possibly afford me; and am also confident, that you know me so well, that I need not tell you how clear I am, and void of fear, the only effect of a good conscience; and that I am guilty of nothing that may testify one thought of disloyalty to his Majesty, or of what may stain the honour of the family I come of, or set a brand upon my future posterity.’